


The Stars in Silhouettes

by aliatori



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Camping, Cultural Differences, First Dates, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Pre-Canon, Stargazing, and just as much banter as you'd expect when I write these two idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 13:46:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17788523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliatori/pseuds/aliatori
Summary: “If you wanted some company, I have all my own gear. I used to go camping and hiking a lot more before… well, y’know. And I’ve been up a mountain or two,” Gladio says, aiming for a mixture of nonchalance and assertiveness.“Oh yeah? I must have missed Lord Amicitia’s love of nature in all the tabloid rags,” Nyx suggests. He smirks in a slow, deliberate way that chills and burns Gladio’s skin at the same time.“Can’t trust the news these days,” Gladio replies. Nyx holds his gaze still, and Gladio is determined not to be the first to look away. “They’ve got my dating history right, at least.”Gladio asks Nyx on a date. Well, sort of.





	The Stars in Silhouettes

**Author's Note:**

> written for day 4 of Gladio Rarepair Week, for the prompt of stargazing
> 
> a big, loving thanks to [Xylianna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xylianna/pseuds/Xylianna) for her beta assistance <3

Watching Nyx Ulric preen for a bunch of first year Kingsglaive cadets should _not_ be as boner-inducing as it is, especially not when he’s lecturing the group on the importance of physical stamina in regards to magic usage, though Gladio admires the way Nyx expertly straddles the line between arrogance and confidence.

He’d rather Nyx be straddling something else. Hell, _Gladio’d_ rather be doing the straddling, but his fantasies aren’t picky…

“Heads up, Crownie!” 

Gladio snatches a wooden greatsword out of the air by the hilt, silently thanking his quick reflexes to avoid being beaned in the head by Luche. Cor had probably thought being assigned as the Crownsguard liaison to a Kingsglaive training exercise was punishment for a sloppy sparring session, and in a lot of ways, he had been right. What Cor hadn’t accounted for, largely because neither he nor _anyone_ knew about the massive crush he had on Nyx Ulric, was Nyx’s presence making the ‘punishment’ a lot more tolerable.

“Keep it up and you can be my next demonstration volunteer,” Gladio calls to Luche with a smirk.

Luche rolls his eyes and makes his way to the other side of the training room where the higher ranking Glaives are assembled. Nyx glances over his shoulder and cocks one eyebrow at Gladio, who shuts his mouth and wills his face not to heat in a blush. It’s not like him to talk over a superior officer, though the rankings get tricky when considering the two divisions side by side. A couple more months, when he’s officially Noct’s Shield, _then_ he’ll outrank most everyone except his dad, Cor, and the king himself.

“As I was saying before being interrupted by my lord Amicitia and the village idiot, your capacity to draw on magical energy is just like any other muscle…” Nyx begins, returning his attention to the assembled recruits.

Gladio doesn’t know whether he’s more impressed or annoyed that he and Luche raise a middle finger behind Nyx’s back in unison.

Maybe, Gladio thinks as he takes up his post at one of the assembled training stations, he should talk to someone about it. But who? Ignis is his best friend and he’d definitely listen, but Gladio knew there’d be a snide comment about where all the ego would fit between the two of them; if not that, then definitely remarks about the political ramifications of stepping out with a glorified Galahdian refugee, even though Ignis would deliver said remarks with _just_ enough of a smile for Gladio to know he was joking. Mostly. And Noct… well, he and Noct were close, but in the ‘I’ve sworn to protect you with my life’ way and not the ‘what do I do with this massive crush on a guy it would be stupid to fuck’ way. Better to keep that one to video games, training sessions, and the occasional Lucis Caelum-Amicitia dinner at the Citadel.

Nyx must have dismissed the crowd, because a beautiful young woman approaching Gladio brings him out of his thoughts, sporting an immaculate Kingsglaive uniform in the way newbies typically do.

“How familiar are you with close quarters combat?” Gladio asks. If he lets a little heat seep into the words, well, it’s not like the person he actually wants is paying him any mind; for once Gladio has the weekend free, and he hasn’t gone on a date in _way_ too long.

* * *

The notion that he’s not on Nyx’s radar lasts as long as the joint training session does.

“Thank _fuck_ it’s the weekend,” Tredd declares, slamming his locker shut as a punctuation mark to his statement. He hops down from the bench he’s standing on and pumps his fist in the air, just in time for a white towel to smack him in the face.

“Ramuh’s hairy asshole, Tredd, just because you’re infatuated with the sight of yourself doesn’t mean we are,” Nyx says, chuckling once Tredd pulls an affronted face.

“So says the Great, Almighty Hero, who probably gets a hard on every time he looks in the mirror.”

“If I did, could you blame me? There’s a lot to love.”

Gladio studies the ceiling and bites the inside of his cheek, determined to think of anything but Nyx, Nyx’s cock, Nyx naked, or any combination of those three things. He debates making some crack about how everyone in the room has seen it all already, but he doesn’t trust his voice, so he focuses on getting dressed.

Libertus unknowingly has his back. “Next person to open their mouth is buying the first round at the Little Arrow tonight.”

“Good luck getting me to buy beer when I’ll be about 200 kilometres from here,” Nyx responds. “Haven’t had two days in a row off since Drautos decided weekend duty builds character, and I intend to make the best of them.”

“No shit?” Gladio asks, looking up his boot laces to study Nyx. “Where you headed?”

“Nature boy is probably running off to the mountains again. No fun.” Luche answers Gladio’s question instead of Nyx, pulling a disgruntled face at Nyx.

“Don’t be pissed just because I won’t be there to drag your ass home from whatever ditch you pass out in.”

“That was _one_ time, Ulric.”

“Yeah, and once was enough.”

“Six! Aren’t you guys too old and tired for this crap?” Lib demands, shaking his head.

Gladio is far too interested in what Nyx’s plans are to pay much mind to the bluster and bravado, so he rides it out.

“Not sure who you have me confused with, old friend, but I am neither of those things,” Nyx says, pausing to tug on a plain black t-shirt, which sends a pang of disappointment through Gladio. “To answer the original question posed by our Lucian friend, Luche has the right of it. I’m off to do some camping this weekend. Clear my head. It’s like meditation for me,” he explains, grinning his characteristic, insufferable grin and making Gladio’s heart beat an angry protest.

“Meditation,” Lib snorts. “Only you’re crazy enough to call extreme sports ‘meditation’. Why don’t you tell Gladio about the time you fell off the sheer side of a cliff and only avoided getting impaled by warping?”

If Gladio was interested before, he’s extremelyinterested now. “Camping _and_ mountain climbing?” He swings his legs over the bench to face Nyx. “I didn’t know there were any places worth summiting in Insomnia.”

“That’s because there aren’t. Gotta go out past the Wall for the good shit, which is another reason Lib has his panties in a twist about it. I like it, though. It clears my head.”

“Have fun being one with nature, _hero_. We’ll drink a beer or three for you,” Luche says with a smirk as he leaves the locker room.

“Or we’ll just drink without you,” Tredd adds, laughing and following Luche out.

“Bye, assholes!” Nyx gives a perfunctory wave and turns to Libertus. “I’ll be careful, Lib. Promise.”

“You better mean it,” Lib says sternly. He thumps Nyx on the back a few times before following the other two members of the Glaive out.

Which leaves Gladio alone with Nyx.

He’s not sure he’s one for signs, but having his schedule free at the exact same time as Nyx is nothing if not an opportunity. Gladio glances at the black and white tiled floor once before lifting his eyes and meeting Nyx’s cerulean gaze.

“If you wanted some company, I have all my own gear. I used to go camping and hiking a lot more before… well, y’know. And I’ve been up a mountain or two,” Gladio says, aiming for a mixture of nonchalance and assertiveness. 

“Oh yeah? I must have missed Lord Amicitia’s love of nature in all the tabloid rags,” Nyx suggests. He smirks in a slow, deliberate way that chills and burns Gladio’s skin at the same time.

“Can’t trust the news these days,” Gladio replies. Nyx holds his gaze still, and Gladio is determined not to be the first to look away. “They’ve got my dating history right, at least.”

He succeeds in not being the first to look away. What he barely succeeds in is keeping his composure as Nyx stands and crosses the distance to him. Nyx folds his arms and looks down at Gladio, a contemplative expression on his face.

“Interesting connection to make, going from mountain climbing to dating.”

“I just asked if you wanted company. You’re the one talking about making it a date,” Gladio counters, his blood on fire. “It can be if you want it to be.”

Nyx laughs, and Gladio decides Nyx’s smile might be his favourite part about the guy. His favourite part so far, anyway. “Let’s see how it goes before we start putting any labels on it. A couple hours enough time to get your gear and be ready?”

“Yeah. Yeah, more than enough,” Gladio answers, trying not to sound overeager.

“Good. Text me your address and I’ll see you then.” He pats Gladio on the shoulder, his hand lingering an instant past friendly, and then scoops his jacket from the bench, slings it over his shoulder, and heads for the exit.

Gladio’s about to open his mouth to agree when his brain catches up with his hormones. “Wait, I don’t have your number.”

Nyx’s grin is positively impish as he fishes his phone from the pocket of his jeans, tapping the screen a few times with one hand. “Now you do.”

The door to the locker room is closing when Gladio’s phone chirps his own pocket. Gladio stares at the single winking emoticon for far longer than necessary before responding with his address and starting towards home himself.

* * *

Nyx has gotten in over his head so many times in his life that it may as well be his personal brand. Everything from deliberate insubordination to ill-conceived triple dates is in the Nyx Ulric Hall of Fuckups, which he generally has no trouble owning, since he’s a grown man and is perfectly capable of making his own decisions, even when those decisions include asking the Immortal himself if he was born with a stick up his ass or if it was a recent development.

What he’s not sure about…

“Weird to be out past the wall,” Gladio remarks, right before sticking his head out the window of the Crown-property car, the wind whipping his hair into a frenzy of dark tendrils. 

… is Gladio. Specifically, why he invited Gladio to come along with him on the _one_ thing he really, really, _really_ likes to do alone? The one thing where the whole _point_ is to be completely alone? Why he made it into a not-date, of all things?

“This your first taste of commoner life, or have you been out past the Wall before?” Nyx asks once Gladio leans back inside the car. Arms and legs inside the ride at all times.

Gladio scoffs with all the finely-bred haughtiness of his 19 years. “Of course I’ve been outside the Wall before. Can’t really learn survival skills in a training room.”

Nyx takes a moment to assimilate this new information. Gladio was… well, he’d consider him a friend, but he’d be an even bigger idiot than Crowe claims he is not to notice the sparkle of admiration, the lingering glances, the puffed out chest and elaborate maneuvers on the rare occasion Nyx has watched him spar. He’d written it off as another flash in the pan hit of infatuation, which happens with young recruits far more regularly than is convenient for Nyx—though it’s certainly a nice boost to the ego when it does. Give it a few weeks, Nyx had told himself, and Gladio would be on to the next new thing.

Except Nyx has waited seven months and Gladio shows no signs of moving on. Not only is he still around, he’s seamlessly integrated himself with the rest of the Galahdians, a sort of living bridge between old Lucian nobility and new immigrant blood in the ranks. Nyx makes it a point not to judge people on heritage… well, not _first_ judgments, anyway… but the same can’t be said of the rest of the Galahdian Kingsglaive, which makes Gladio’s continued, welcomed presence all the more amazing.

“Survival skills, huh? Out there skinning dualhorns and picking berries and navigating by the stars?” Nyx asks with a teasing lilt.

“Not exactly,” Gladio says, shifting in his seat to face Nyx. “Only hunting I do is to get rid of monsters, not for food. Berry picking, natural navigation… yeah, that’s some of it. You ever read Dr. Yeagre’s work?”

“While I appreciate the vote of confidence, do I _look_ like the kind of guy to read anything written by someone with several PhDs?” Nyx fires back, chuckling afterwards. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve surprised me,” Gladio says, too casually to be anything but deliberate flirtation. “Also, most people wouldn’t know she has several PhDs. Gonna have to try harder to keep up the dumb soldier act.”

“You’re one to talk.” There you go, Nyx. Use deflection to hide the fact you searched the title of one of Gladio’s books on the internet and read everything you could about it _and_ the author.

Gladio laughs, the bass of it pulsing through Nyx’s body and coming to rest at the base of his spine. “I don’t pretend anything. Most people don’t bother to ask.” He turns to look at Nyx and Six-damned smolders with those big, illegally gorgeous eyes, laying it on so thick it’s obvious through Nyx’s peripheral vision.

“So all people have to do is ask, huh? I’ll keep that in mind,” Nyx purrs, raising the stakes and flirting right back. He suspects most people don’t have the balls—or the patience—to match Gladio’s level of self assurance.

Nyx has no such reservations.

“Of course,” Gladio says amiably, but Nyx is gratified to hear that his voice has gone a little hoarse.

The fact that Nyx manages to keep his eyes on the road—to not ask Gladio if he should just pull the car over so they can fuck right on the side of the road and get this tension out of the way—takes enough willpower to earn him a commendation. There’s something about Gladio’s earnestness that gives Nyx pause. It’s easy to forget, what with the seriousness and the confident streak a mile wide, that he’s only nineteen, that he’s the Prince’s Shield (or about to be), that underneath the duty there’s a wellspring of youthful enthusiasm.

Sometimes everything feels too easy with Gladio, though Nyx isn’t quite sure if ‘too easy’ is a bad thing or not. Not yet, anyway.

“How much climbing have you done, exactly?” Nyx asks, steering the conversation towards safer waters.

As Gladio answers, he listens, keeping his eyes firmly on the road and not on the only Lucian noble insane enough to invite himself on a bona fide, mountain climbing date with Nyx.

* * *

“It’s cheating if you use the Armiger to store your extra gear.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Gladio says gruffly, though the thought had crossed his mind as he sized up the mountain in front of him. It’s no Rock of Ravatogh, but in the broad Leidan sunshine, backed by bright blue sky, it appears far more imposing than he’d initially thought. At least the view from the top promises to be mind blowing if Gladio’s judgment is fair.

In the meantime, the view in front of him isn’t half bad either. A sense of calm had descended on Nyx as soon as he started strapping himself into all his gear. Focus sharpens his aquiline features, his blue-grey eyes darting back and forth across the nearby rock face, presumably assessing the initial handholds. It’s weird to see Nyx in cargo shorts and a tank top instead of in uniform, but Gladio isn’t complaining, especially not with the flashes of muscular thigh and calf the outfit treats him to. Despite the pack he shoulders being nearly half his size, Nyx shows no signs of strain carrying it, aside from a sheen of sweat along his neck that the more hormone-addled part of Gladio’s brain wants to lick off.

Slowly.

“Scared, Amicitia? When you told me you had some experience climbing, I thought an intermediate trek would be fine,” Nyx challenges with a grin.

“Like hell I’m scared,” Gladio protests. “Just taking a look at what I’m up against.”

“Don’t worry,” Nyx reassures with a wink, “you’ve got me.”

“I can hold my own.”

“Alright then. You double-check all your gear?” Nyx asks, a little too indulgently for Gladio’s comfort, like he’s talking to a complete newbie instead of a budding outdoorsman.

“Yeah, I double checked. Let’s get a move on already. I wanna reach the top sometime before we gotta be back in Insomnia.”

Nyx lifts both eyebrows in mock surprise. “I didn’t realize you were so impatient, G.”

The early summer heat disguises Gladio’s blush well. “Not impatient. Excited.”

After a noncommittal hum, Nyx beckons Gladio forward and they begin to climb.

Climbing a literal mountain isn’t easy work, but Nyx makes it _look_ easy. It’s all Gladio can do to follow in his footsteps and keep pace. Sometimes he finds an easier handhold up, one he can reach because of the nearly seven inches he has on Nyx, but for the most part he trusts the trail Nyx blazes. The longer they climb, the higher they ascend, the more impressed Gladio is with Nyx’s sure footing and stamina. He knows there’s some truth to the ‘hero’ moniker tossed around the ‘Glaive, but to Gladio, seeing is believing, and he is firmly a believer after several hours of climbing.

Nyx calls a break when they reach ledge wide enough to stand on with little danger of falling.

“How you holding up?” Nyx asks, tossing Gladio one of two protein bars he digs out of his pack.

“Good,” Gladio answers, eyes following a bird of prey soaring off into the distance. “This is great. I missed being outside. Been spending too much time boxed in by four walls.”

“Yeah, I hear that. I missed this too,” Nyx agrees, pausing to wolf down his protein bar. He quickly scrubs the back of his hand against his mouth before meeting Gladio’s eyes. “Makes me feel… alive.”

A sudden dizziness overtakes Gladio, one that has nothing to do with heights. “You always gotta risk your neck to feel alive?” Gladio asks.

“I’ve been told I’m a bit of a thrill seeker. Heard the same about you, actually, beneath all the buttoned up formal robes and dutiful retainer mask.”

Gladio grins sheepishly. “A little, I guess. Who doesn’t like some adrenaline every now and then?”

Nyx tuts and waggles one finger in mock disapproval. “Careful, Amicitia. Sounds… _risky,_ and we can’t have Lucis’ one and only Shield-in-waiting doing anything untoward.”

“Says the asshole who’s encouraging me to climb up a damn mountain.”

“Says the asshole who agreed to let you _accompany_ me up a damn mountain when you asked,” Nyx corrects, looking so smug about the comeback that Gladio wants to give him a shove for his trouble.

He doesn’t, of course, because they’re very high off the ground and one misstep means almost certain death. Almost certain death for Gladio, anyway—Nyx can warp to safety just fine. Gladio watches instead as Nyx takes a long drink of water, then squirts some from his canteen over his face and neck, presumably to cool off; the way he catches Gladio’s eye and winks after he does, water soaking his shirt and dripping from his face, makes Gladio reconsider that decision.

“Dick,” Gladio mutters. “That’s just unnecessary.”

Nyx laughs in response and, after settling his gear back into position, starts climbing again.

Gladio follows.

They lapse into hard-working silence after that. The sun passes its zenith and starts its descent towards the horizon, which means light beats upon their backs as they scale the Leidan peak. Nyx mentioned the name of the place before they arrived, but Gladio can’t recall it, only the bright cast to Nyx’s eyes as he talked about the climb.

To say the climb is a workout would be a big understatement. Gladio considers himself to be in peak physical condition—part of the whole Amicitia thing—but his clothes are soaked through with sweat and his muscles burn in a way that promises stiffness in the morning. It’s a matter of pride to acquit himself well, though, and aside from a couple of times where Nyx has to lend him a hand or point out the path up, he does. Gladio sees what Nyx enjoys about the more challenging ascent. It’s a similar sense of focused calm Gladio felt during his crisis training sessions. All that matters is the ability to see the next step in the path, to not panic when his grip slips a fraction or when a stray rock tumbles down the mountain and startles him.

It’s like Nyx said. Gladio feels _alive_.

Deep, violent orange has overtaken the sky by the time Gladio heaves himself over the last ledge and reaches the relatively flat surface that serves as the mountain’s plateau. Nyx has ditched his pack in a safe spot and sprawls flat on his back, chest heaving, a big smile on his face.

“Nice of you to finally join me,” Nyx quips, though he’s a little too out of breath for it to be an effective brag.

“I was two minutes behind,” Gladio protests, chucking his pack beside Nyx’s and collapsing beside him.

“Still means I was first.”

“This time.”

* * *

Laying on top of a mountain beside Gladio, exhausted in a pleasant way, bathed in russet sunset and with nothing but open sky above him, strikes a chord deep inside Nyx that he’d thought was long gone. Gladio is the first person in his entire adult life to, upon hearing that Nyx climbs literal mountains for fun, not only ask to go _with_ Nyx, but keep up every step of the way without complaining.

It’s… nice. ‘Nice’ isn’t a good enough word, but it’s the only word Nyx can come up with through his bone-deep weariness. 

“Help me set up camp?” Nyx asks, forcing his tired muscles to move him into an upright position. “We’ll cramp like hell if we stay like this anyway.”

“Good point,” Gladio says, grunting as he follows suit.

If Nyx wasn’t already fascinated by Gladio’s seemingly endless energy, his quick work of setting up their campsite only adds to Nyx’s opinion. Their tents are pitched and, after a quick consult of the weather, a fire started before the sun goes down completely. Once the rest of the boring necessities are taken care of, Nyx opens a pouch on the side of his backpack and withdraws a large flask.

“Time for the reward,” Nyx says.

“Booze?” Gladio asks skeptically.

“Booze _and_ the view.”

The whiskey burns nice and smooth on the way down as Nyx takes a swallow where he stands, studying the horizon instead of Gladio, just in case his staring becomes too obvious. It doesn’t take long for Gladio to join him, extending one half-tattooed arm for the flask, which Nyx hands over with a smile much softer than he intends. The way Gladio’s calloused fingers brush his own as they pass the flask back and forth makes long dormant excitement electrify Nyx’s veins.

“I used to do this back home, you know,” Nyx offers into the silence. “The mountains were forested, though, and there were storms half the year, so it was a different experience. Had to worry about lightning strikes and mudslides in addition to all the normal hazards of getting vertical.”

“That where the scars came from?” Gladio asks, tone guarded.

“You been checking me out, G?” Nyx answers the question with a sly, smirking question of his own.

Gladio offers a shrug of one massive shoulder. “Hard not to. You and the rest of the ‘Glaive are allergic to clothing.”

“So you _have_ been looking. Naughty boy,” Nyx chides teasingly. Satisfied by the way Gladio’s throat works in a hard swallow, he continues. “You can take the Galahdians out of the jungle, but you can’t take the jungle out of Galahdians.” Nyx accepts his flask back from Gladio and takes a longer swallow than usual, the burn of the alcohol eroding some of his few inhibitions with it. “The scars are from a training incident when I was learning to use the king’s magic. Don’t think I’d be standing here if I got nailed with Ramuh’s Fury.”

“Lemme see if I have this straight,” Gladio starts, raising a thick eyebrow in Nyx’s direction. “Not only do you do this to _relax_ , you do it alone _and_ this is the less extreme version of what you’re used to?”

Oh, Gladio.

“We still talking about mountain climbing, or… ?” Nyx asks, smirking around the opening of the flask before drinking down a shot of whisky.

Gladio splutters endearingly, and Nyx idly wonders if corruption of Lucian nobility is some sort of crime that he can be court martialed for. He decides he doesn’t care when Gladio regains his composure and stares at him, the pupils of bold amber eyes blown wide out.

“We don’t have to be,” Gladio murmurs, bass voice dropping low enough to send a wave of frisson across Nyx’s skin.

Fuck. The realization hits him like a rampaging anak stag. All this time, hell, even as early as this morning, Nyx thought he’d been humoring Gladio with this whole crush thing, playing along to spare his feelings.

“C’mon. Why don’t we sit down before we drunkenly topple off the mountain to a gory death,” Nyx suggests, handing Gladio the flask and making his way back to the campfire.

The hard truth, the truth Nyx feels like an ache inside his heart, is that he _likes_ Gladio right back, likes him in the same way he likes mountain climbing and wild thunderstorms and whiskey burn, likes him because he’s the only easy and uncomplicated and earnest thing in Nyx’s life.

The harder truth, the one guarded by several layers peeled back by dizzying heights and Leidan whiskey, is that _Gladio_ makes Nyx feel alive in a way he hasn’t felt in a very, very long time.

* * *

The stars are like nothing Gladio’s ever seen before.

Outside the Wall with nothing to obscure them, far up and away from any civilization, they burn like the miniature suns they are, bright white against a thick canvas of black. The sky is clear enough that Gladio can trace out several constellations with his finger, the world’s biggest dot to dot puzzle, which he does as he basks in the soothing warmth of the fire.

“You okay there, G? If I knew you couldn’t handle your liquor, I wouldn’t have offered,” Nyx quips from beside Gladio, propped up on his elbows with his sleeping bag as a cushion.

“Shut up,” Gladio says, cupping Nyx’s shoulder in his palm and giving him the shove he wanted to deliver earlier. “That’s for being a tool with the water on break too.”

“Yeah, yeah, I deserved that one. But seriously, what’s with the finger pointing?”

“Stars. Y’know, constellations. First time I’ve ever had a sky clear enough to see them for real instead of in books,” Gladio admits. He gropes for the (second) flask Nyx brought to share and swallows down a gulp of fragrant, herbal liquor Nyx said was a Galahdian specialty. 

“You’re filthy rich, Amicitia. Don’t you have a telescope or some shit?” Nyx presses, gesticulating emphatically with one hand.

“Iris does, actually, but the Wall makes it so you can’t see much. Saw a planet one time,” Gladio explains. Hell, he’s babbling about dumb shit, but he can’t seem to stop himself.

He doesn't want to stop. It’s easy to talk to Nyx, comfortable, like they’ve been friends for five years instead of five months.

“A planet, huh? You interested in astronomy? The great unknown?” Nyx says dramatically, sweeping a hand in an arc to encompass the sky.

“Studied astronomy when I was being tutored. It’s interesting. And…” No, Amicitia, don’t do it. Don’t get deep. “Sometimes I wonder if there’s anything else out there. Another Eos. Other worlds and other life like ours.”

Too late. At least he can blame it on the whiskey. 

Nyx whistles and gives a gentle chuckle that _should_ feel mocking, but doesn’t. “A lot going on that head of yours no one seems to know about. So, what, you think someday we’ll travel out there in space? I bet you’d sign up in a heartbeat.”

“Maybe,” Gladio hedges, shrugging. He turns to look at Nyx and grins. “Only if they gave me my own ship, though.”

“Who knows, my lord Amicitia. Maybe someday the royal line of Shields will carry on their duties in the vast unknown of the stars.” 

“You’re fucking irritating, you know that?” Gladio asks, shaking his head and giving a quiet laugh. “Last time I tell you anything.”

“So I’ve been told. Didn’t seem to stop you from volunteering for this trip and two whole days of my company,” Nyx counters.

The atmosphere shifts with a single sentence. Gladio’s pulse reminds him with every beat that they _are_ alone, under the stars, with not a single soul to be found for miles, and his hopeless romantic heart couldn’t ask for a better first date. If it _was_ a date. Which it isn’t.

“Yeah, and I’m regretting it now,” Gladio says, settling for a half truth.

Nyx narrows his eyes and raises up to his knees, shuffling over until his thighs are touching Gladio’s legs. “I seem to remember _someone_ saying they didn’t pretend anything, but I’m a pretty good judge of pretending.” Gladio stops breathing for longer than advisable when Nyx swings one leg over Gladio’s, effectively straddling his lap. “And you’re holding something back.”

“Dunno,” Gladio murmurs, hands finding Nyx’s outer thighs of their own free will and sliding up until they hit his waist. “ _I_ remember someone saying they’d see if this was a date or not depending on how it went. Is this a date?”

“Do you want it to be?” Nyx asks, herbal-tinged breath ghosting across Gladio’s cheek, body pressed in one hard, muscular line against Gladio’s, a sensation that makes it difficult to focus. “Because I like you a _lot_ , but I need to be sure.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do,” Gladio admits. “Want it to be a date, I mean.”

“You sure? Astrals forbid we start dating. You’ll scandalize the Lucian court. Make a mockery of tradition. The Marshal and Drautos will conduct thorough interrogrations,” Nyx supplies, his lips tantalizingly close to Gladio’s own.

“Are you going to talk the rest of the damn night or kiss me?” Gladio asks hoarsely, every nerve blazing.

“Depends. Another thing I remember,” Nyx begins, cupping Gladio’s cheek in one calloused, weather-worn palm, “is that all I had to do was ask. So… can I kiss you, my lord Amicitia?”

“Only if you stop fucking calling me that,” Gladio mutters, dizzy with vertigo and want.

Nyx flashes him a smirk and then he’s leaning in and pressing his mouth to Gladio’s, soft and insistent. Gladio’s the one who deepens the kiss, lends it urgency, desperate to taste Nyx, fingers digging into Nyx’s hips as their tongues meet in lazy, unhurried passes. They kiss over and over, tangled in each other’s arms and bathed in starlight, kiss until they’re breathless and then dive right back in.

“I like you too,” Gladio says during one of the moments when they catch their breath, shivering as Nyx slides his hands underneath Gladio’s tank top. “A lot.”

“Amazingly, I figured that one out all by myself,” Nyx says with an impish grin, threading one hand through Gladio’s hair and kissing the air straight out of his lungs.

Gladio has no complaints.

* * *

Neither does Nyx, especially after a night spent exhausting himself with Gladio in an entirely different way than mountain climbing, one involving rocking hips and nibbled throats and roaming hands and panted breath.

Waking up beside Gladio, whose features look far softer in sleep than they do in waking, especially while backlit by the rising sun on the peak of a gorgeous mountain, is something Nyx could get very used to.

But for now… for now, the only way to climb _any_ mountain, literal or figurative, is one step at a time.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated if you enjoyed. <3 Come find me over on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/AliatoriEra) to chat.


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